The Root of All Evil
by elusive.enchantment
Summary: Albus Severus Potter is sorted into Slytherin, and finds friendship and acceptance in the most unlikely of places. Adventure, hilarity, and drama ensues. [Mature rating in advance for later chapters.]
1. Part 1 :: Chapter 1

_Hello, all! Just a quick message from the author.. This entire fanfic contains spoilers for all of the Harry Potter books. Also, in order for things to all fit together nicely for the plot I have in mind, I have made one significant change in the Epilogue of Deathly Hallows.. Specifically, Draco Mafloy's son is now his daughter. Also, this is the first fanfiction that I've written in a really, really long time, so go easy on me!_

_Disclaimer: I sadly do not own any of the Harry Potter world, characters, etc. If they were, Harry and Draco's relationship would have turned out very differently, and it's likely none of the next-generation kids would be around. Anyway, Harry Potter and all things affiliated with it belong to J.K. Rowling, WB, etc._

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**Part One :: Chapter One**

James helped Albus and Rose shove their trunks into the luggage compartment, then, with an air of grand self-importance, led them down the corridor of the train carriage to the passenger compartments.

Albus and Rose trailed a little ways behind him, their eyes wide and hungry. Ever since Albus could remember, his parents had told him grand tales of Hogwarts. He'd been infinitely jealous when James had gotten to go, writing home letters bursting with excitement, while he was stuck at home counting down the days until his eleventh birthday. It had seemed impossible, a time so far away that there was no hope of it ever arriving. And yet here he was, on the Hogwarts Express. This was a day he'd been pining after for years, and he wanted to drink it all in.

As they walked, Albus spotted Victoire Weasley-Delacour – or at least, her lower half, as she was dangling precariously out of a window to wave a final goodbye to Teddy as the train rounded the corner. She was entering her seventh year, while Teddy, who was practically an adopted fourth Potter child, had graduated last year with much pomp and circumstance.

Albus had once overheard his father discussing with Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione concerns he had about Teddy. Dad had expressed worry about Teddy's mounting depression and his lack of interest in girls, and had begun to say something about wondering if he might be "that way" when Aunt Hermione had flown into a tizzy and began a lecture on acceptance and support. Albus had abandoned all hope of understanding the conversation at that point, and had left to watch James and Fred race their new brooms, cheering them on from below alongside Uncle George.

The pleased look on Dad's face and the crooked grin he'd directed at Teddy upon his reappearance – looking a bit disheveled, face flushed pink and eye color flickering from green to yellow and back again, as it was wont to do when he was strung high emotionally – had expressed eloquently enough his relief that Teddy was getting friendly with a girl. Albus didn't get what the fuss was all about, but as long as Teddy was happy, he supposed it was alright with him if he wanted to go on snogging Victoire.

As the trio passed Victoire, heading towards a compartment they'd seen Fred and Jamila enter a moment before, Chloé – the middle child of the Weasley-Delacour girls, who was going into fourth year – had appeared and had yanked Victoire forcibly back into the train, shrilling that the train was rounding the bend, and did she want to end up like Nearly Headless Nick?

They left the girls to their argument, a blur of English and French they found impossible to decipher, and filed into their carriage, settling with the ease of familiarity among their cousins.

Rose Weasley and Jamila Weasley-Delacour – both first-years, like Albus – sat on one side of the compartment, heads bowed in towards each other as they chattered rapidly, comparing rumors they'd heard about Hogwarts and theories on where they'd be sorted. On the other side, James – who was in his third year – and Fred – entering his second – sat together. Albus became wedged between James and the wall. Their conversation immediately turned to Quidditch. James followed in his father's footsteps and was the Seeker for the Gryffindor team. George was keen on trying out for a position as Beater this year, now that he was finally eligible and had his own broom.

After a while of trying to follow the conversation, Albus drifted off a bit. He gazed out the window as the scenery blurred past, and thought back to his father's words back on Platform 9 ¾.

_"What if I'm in Slytherin?"_

_"It doesn't matter to us, Al. But if it matter to you, you'll be able to choose Gryffindor over Slytherin. The Sorting Hat takes your choice into account."_

_"Really?"_

_"It did for me"_

Would it come down to that? Albus hoped he wouldn't have to make such a decision.

---

"Marianna Nott."

"Slytherin!"

"Charles Hector Mackeroy."

"Hufflepuff!"

"Cassiopeia Layali Malfoy."

Malfoy? Albus turned as a girl made her way through the thinning crowd of first years, towards the Sorting Hat. It was. The Malfoy girl from Platform 9 ¾.

Her dark hair fell pin-straight to her shoulder blades, were it was cut in a severe, straight line that matched the cut of her bangs, cut to the level of her eyebrows. Yet despite the difference in hair, she seemed to match every description he'd ever heard of the Malfoys. She walked with a certain conscious grace, her chin lifted slightly in a proud affectation. Her skin was a pale alabaster, contrasting dramatically against the black of her hair.

When she reached the stool at the front of the Great Hall, she spun on the balls of her feet and sat upon it elegantly, as though it were a throne, somehow managing this despite the fact that she had to hop slightly to reach it.

She stared coolly out at the crowd watching her as the Hat grumbled to itself for a few long moments. Finally, it exclaimed, "Slytherin!"

Little surprise there. Albus had heard enough of the Malfoys from his parents and aunts and uncles to know they were notoriously proud of their pureblood Slytherin heritage. On the day when the marriage of Draco Malfoy and Hakata Sanura had been announced in the Daily Prophet, Mum had snorted and said dryly, "Well, it seems the git managed to hunt down the only other pureblood left in the world. Typical." She'd gone on to tell him that 'git' was not a nice word, and that he wasn't to repeat it. Therefore, he memorized it and stored it carefully in the cache of 'not nice words' he'd already gathered from James and Fred.

Cassiopeia Malfoy glided proudly over to the Slytherin table, a pleased smile on her face.

"Albus Severus Potter!"

Oh, _no_.

Albus swallowed hard, and with great effort forced his legs to move. The stool loomed closer and closer. _Slytherin or Gryffindor? Gryffindor or Slytherin?_ What would his fate be? Was Slytherin really _that_ bad now that the Death Eaters had been disbanded for years? Would he ever be able to live it down if he didn't get sorted into Gryffindor?

Though he trembled slightly, he managed to hook his heels onto the rungs of the stool and perch on the seat. An aging Professor McGonagall, the hair pulled back into a severe bun and tucked under her pointed witch's hat almost entirely gray now, lowered the time-battered Hat onto his head. It slipped halfway down his forehead, and then a ponderous, wizened voice spoke in his head.

"Hmm, Potter, eh? Not so many decades since I sorted your father. Had quite a time of it, oh, yes. He was a tricky one to place. But you – I think I know where you belong."

_Well that's good, I'm glad someone has some faith in me_, Albus thought to himself. _This Slytherin-Gryffindor thing has really been very bothersome. James just wouldn't shut up about it. It's nice to turn it over into someone else's hands._

"Slytherin!"

_Wait. What?!_

The Hat was being lifted away, and nausea swept through Albus as he fought the urge to wrench the Hat away from McGonagall and slam it back down on his head. Wait just a tick! He hadn't even gotten a word in edgewise! Surely he had some sort of veto? Now that it had actually happened, he wanted to rescind any thoughts he'd had about Slytherin maybe not being too bad.

The Slytherins were clapping; they were all looking at him. Somehow he was standing, where a moment before he'd been sitting on the stool still. Albus stood rooted to the spot, green eyes wide. Then he felt McGonagall give him a small shove of encouragement, and he found himself slowly plodding for the long table all bedecked in green and silver. His feet felt like lead, and every step was a struggle. Could he beg an audience from the Headmistress after the feast? Ask for a- a re-Sorting?

As he reached the table – which felt like years later, though it had only been seconds – he heard another name being called behind him. Someone Ralph.

_Yes, I think I will, _Albus thought vaguely, inanely.

A prefect adorned in Slytherin robes set a hand on his shoulder and gently yet firmly pushed him down to a seat at one of the benches placed in close quarters surrounding the table.

He stared blankly at the plate before him. How very weird, too, that silverware and platters and specialized serving dishes were all set out on the table, and not a scrap of food in them.

"Potter, eh?"

Albus started at the sound of his name, and looked to his left. Somehow he'd found his way to a seat beside the Malfoy girl – what was her name, Cassie-something-rather?

"Ah, yes?" He replied, his unsure tone making it a question.

She tilted her head slightly to the side, and appeared to be scrutinizing him, her eyes – which were gray, he could see now – searching his face, though for what he had no idea. Finally, coming to some inner conclusion, she smiled swiftly and fleetingly, then turned her attention away from him and back to the other first years being sorted.

He felt baffled, confusion warring with his uneasiness, and finally he gave up altogether and looked back to the remaining new students as well. As he watched, trying not to think about this twist of fate, Jamila Weasley-Delacour was sorted into Gryffindor and Rose Weasley into Ravenclaw. His heart sank further, about level with his toes by now. He didn't even have any of his cousins in the same house to share his misery.

He suddenly felt very, very alone.

---

"…and as always, the Forbidden Forest is utterly forbidden. So without further ado, let me be the first to welcome you to – or back to – Hogwarts! Let the feast begin!"

Albus's attention was immediately dragged away from Professor Mubblycrumpet – the Headmistress of Hogwarts who had taken over after Professor McGonagall stepped down, getting on in her years too much to handle being Headmistress as well as teaching Transfiguration – and to the food that had materialized before him. Oh. Well, alright, the empty serving dishes made sense now.

The students in the Great Hall had burst into conversation upon the arrival of food, as though waiting for that cue before an explosion of summer stories and gossip were released. Looking around himself, Albus saw everyone digging into the food haphazardly. He may as well. He hadn't eaten much on the train.

He took a bit of this and that from various dishes, whatever looked good. He was going to have to hit James when he saw him again. His brother had teased him about how horrible the food at Hogwarts was. "Unrecognizable pig slop" he'd described it as. Of course it was just more of James's usual antics. The food was fantastic – much better than Mum's cooking, though he would never dare mention it to her. She practically spat fire whenever anyone criticized her cooking. His father had once looked morosely at what she was cooking up for dinner and had asked, with what he'd obviously thought was a casual tone, when they were going to Gran Weasley's for dinner again. Mum hadn't spoken to him for the rest of the night.

"…have a _very_ distinguished lineage. Not a single relative on my father's side has ever been in anything but Slytherin."

Snatches of conversation drifted to Albus's ears, and he looked over to where the Malfoy girl was chatting to another first year on her other side.

"He's the Potions professor, my father. And the Head of Slytherin House. Did you know?"

This Albus _had_ heard before. Dad had been furious when he'd found out about the decision, and had rounded all the children up to give them a lecture about Professor Malfoy. After telling them to keep an eye out for favoritism and to tell him the instant the professor gave them any trouble, he'd lamely finished with a few mutterings about how they should respect all their teachers, though.

Hesitantly, Albus ventured a comment. "Most of my family's been in Gryffindor, for generations. None have ever been Slytherin before me."

The Malfoy girl turned to look at him with what seemed deep pity. "Yes, my father's mentioned," she said, in a tone that implied it was being in _Gryffindor_ that was shameful, instead of Slytherin. She then flicked her hair over her shoulder and returned to her conversation with the girl on her left.

---

Albus thought he'd seek an audience with the Headmistress after the feast, but then he got swept along in the tide of Slytherins going to their dormitories, the first years guided by prefects. He soon found himself bunked with three other Slytherin boys, and when they arrived in their dorm he discovered his trunk already at the foot of one of the beds.

One of the prefects reminded them that curfew was little more than an hour away, then swept out of the room to oversee things elsewhere.

The other three boys quickly argued over who got to use the small adjoining bathroom first, and Albus, who remained silent, found himself going last.

There wasn't much he could do besides obediently shower and get into his pajamas, then climb onto his cot and shut the dark green bed curtains around himself. He'd find the Head tomorrow, and see about a re-Sorting then. For now.. He was exhausted.

He fell asleep shortly, and dreamt he was being constricted by a python.

---

The next morning, Albus again got the last shift in the showers, then, still bleary-eyed, trudged after his dorm mates up from the dungeons – which was the most ridiculously dank place in the world to put dormitories – and to the Great Hall for breakfast. Once there, he surveyed the room until he spotted James, and was actually glad to see his rambunctious older brother.

James and Fred were eating at the Gryffindor table, talking to some third-year Gryffindor girls, when he approached.

"James," he said, with a faint, embarrassing squeak of distress, "can I talk to you?"

"Why, it's ickle Alby!" Fred quipped with an impish grin. "Poor lad already smells like snakes and mildew."

James frowned at his best friend and said tersely, "Come off it, Fred. Can't you see ickle Alby's all ready to have an anxiety attack?" He took one last bite of his omelet then stood, moving to stand next to Albus. He clapped a hand heavily onto his little brother's shoulder and said with a wink at the third year girls, "If you'll excuse me, ladies, I must impart some caring brotherly advice upon the poor, ailing soul."

The girls giggled as James steered Albus away from the table, taking a long circuit around the edge of the Great Hall, in the vague direction of the Slytherin tables. "What's put a bee in your bonnet, Al?" He asked, the lack of an audience banishing the theatrical cadence his voice normally held.

Albus stared up at him. "Do you even need to ask?! I'm in _Slytherin_, James!"

James nodded and said, "So you are, and I'll admit I wouldn't want to trade places with you for the world. But you don't need to get your knickers in a wad about it. I mean, sure, you'll get crushed in every Quidditch game, but you've never had a knack for sports anyway, have you?"

"Is there any way I can go to Professor Mubblycrumpet and.. try the Hat on again? Ask it to reconsider?"

James snorted. "You're Sorted once and once only, little bro. Can't go back once the Hat places you. Sorry, kid. Look, Slytherin and Gryffindor has a lot of classes together, so you're bound to meet some decent folk from Gryffindor, at least. Now--" he pushed Albus into a seat at the Slytherin table, in much the same manner he'd been manhandled last night, "eat something, or I'll write Mum that you've gone anorexic on us. Buck up and hang in there. Only a few months until we go home for Christmas break."

With that not-so-encouraging sentiment, James made a beeline back to the Gryffindor table.

Morosely, Albus took a plate and dropped two pieces of toast onto it. He was spreading vegemite onto his toast when someone plopped into the seat across from his. He looked up, and there was the Malfoy girl again.

She tilted her head, in that peculiar manner of hers, and said abruptly, as though continuing a conversation he wasn't aware they'd been having, "What was your name again? Your _given_ name, I already know your last name's Potter."

He blinked. "Er- Albus- Albus Severus Potter."

The girl wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Albus Severus? Is that what your family calls you?"

"Well, sometimes they call me Al.."

"No, that won't do, that won't do at all. Let me see.." She appeared to be deep in thought as she shoveled large amounts of food onto her own plate. Finally, she brightened and said, "Got it! You'll be 'Asp'."

"Asp?"

"Albus Severus Potter – the initials spell A-S-P. So your new name is 'Asp'."

"What's wrong with Al?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, _are_ you a thirty year old drunkard garbage man?"

Albus felt utterly bewildered. Was it customary to be assailed and given a new name upon starting at Hogwarts? "Well.. Well, what about you, then? What's your name? Cassie or something?"

The girl rolled her eyes. "Oh, _please_, don't be vulgar. 'Cassie' is such a _muggle_ name. _My_ full name is Cassiopeia Layali Malfoy, but I'll be going by 'Layali'."

"Erm. Well. Pleasure to meet you?" Albus said, questioning his own words. He was vaguely overwhelmed by this odd girl.

"Yes, it is, isn't it?" Layali said brightly, digging into her breakfast.

And so it went that Albus had made his first friend at Hogwarts. He was never sure though if he'd ever had any choice in the matter.

---

Their first lesson was Charms, a joint class of first-year Gryffindors and Ravenclaws. Flitwick had been getting on in his years, and had retired from the position of Charms Professor and Head of Ravenclaw House. Sinistra, the Astronomy Professor, had taken up the mantle as Head of Ravenclaw, while a new professor had been recruited for the Hogwarts faculty as the Charms teacher.

Professor Maguire bore an almost frightening resemblance to Tumnus the Faun of Narnia fame to the muggleborns, sans hooves and horns, though they couldn't be sure about a tail. This would be his second year teaching at Hogwarts, and though he had a nasally, unknown foreign accent that was hard to decipher at times, he was generally well-received by the students. This was likely due to his leniency on homework.

As everyone filed into the classroom, Layali found herself a seat at the front of the classroom, dragging Albus into the seat to her left. He watched the other students enter, and quickly began to feel intimidated. There were so _many_, and he knew none of them..

Finally, a relief – there came his cousin Jamila, the one recognizable face among the bunch – all but hers seemed featureless and indistinguishable in his hazy panic. Her strawberry blonde hair was swept elegantly out of her face in a ponytail, in order to show off the angular yet artfully molded bone structure. Her face was a bit gawky and open, like a startled deer, but the promise of beauty when she grew into her face was there, her Veela heritage shining through.

She saw Albus and hesitated. The two Gryffindor girls flanking her followed her gaze, then whispered urgently to her, tugging her towards the other side of the room, away from him and Layali. She frowned, though, and said something to them as she squared her shoulders and walked over towards them. Jamila took the seat to Albus's left, and the two girls reluctantly trailed after her, falling into place on her other side.

Layali narrowed her eyes at their approach, then leaned over to Albus and hissed, "Do you _know_ those Gryffindors, or are they just being presumptuous social climbers?"

She spoke rather too loudly, and the other girls stiffened.

"Erm, this is my cousin, Jamila Weasley-Delacour. Jamila.. Layali Malfoy."

Jamila looked across Albus at Layali with chilly blue eyes, and then said in clipped, formal tones, "This is Roberta and Aimee." The two girls at her side murmured faintly in greeting.

Layali was clearly not listening, though. She had paused to lift her chin haughtily as her name was mentioned, then had turned and begun to rifle through her bag, drawing out parchment, a couple eagle-feather quills, and an expensive brand of ink. She was now busily arranging it all in an aesthetically pleasing manner on her desk.

Albus's cousin took the opportunity of being ignored to lean over to him and whisper, "Making friends with Malfoys? Really, Albus? You _know_ what Granddad Weasley will say to _that_."

Arthur Weasley did have a rather notorious hostility towards the Malfoy family. He would certainly not be pleased about this new development – and neither, for that matter, would Dad and Uncle Ron.

Albus chewed the end of his quill thoughtfully as he tried to come up with some response that may mollify her, but he was saved from having to answer by Professor Maguire beginning to speak at the head of the room, officially starting class.

His cousin shot him a 'this-isn't-over-yet' look, and then turned her attention to the professor. Albus gratefully followed in suit.

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Chapter Two is coming soon! I love to hear from my readers, so please do review! 


	2. Part 1 :: Chapter 2

_Author's Note: The second chapter of the first part! It's a bit shorter than the first, but that's just because I've been so loaded down with work lately.. Finals are approaching quickly._

_Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Potterverse. J.K. Rowling is all-powerful._

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Part One :: Chapter Two 

Their last class of the day just happened to be Potions, with Professor Malfoy. This, too, was a joint Slytherin-Gryffindor class, the first since Charms that morning, and again Jamila sat on Asp's other side, but with a sullen silence, barely sparing him a glance.

As the students began to fill the room, and Asp and his companions took out their quills and parchment, he slowly became aware of a still presence in the room. Inexorably, his eyes were drawn to the front of the room – and there stood a man who could only be Professor Mafloy. He looked as he did the day before on Platform 9 ¾, except he had shucked the button-up coat in favor of a dark green cloak, which now hung utterly still around him, nearly to the floor, emphasizing the hard, severe lines that he seemed to be made up of.

Asp unconsciously shrank back. Professor Malfoy seemed to be staring straight at him, thin lips pursed and eyes narrowed. It was a hateful look, and seemed to pin Asp to his seat.

When that gaze shifted from himself to Layali, Asp felt as though a weight had been lifted, and he could breathe again. He glanced over at Layali, to see if the stare affected her similarly, for though Malfoy was looking at his own daughter, his eyes remained cold. He was bewildered to see her simply flash an impish smile at the professor, then return to the business of arranging the items on her desk to her personal liking.

Turning to his other side, Asp saw Jamila look oddly at Professor Malfoy, then turn to the other Gryffindor girls that tended to trail after her and began to whisper hurriedly.

Convinced he would never understand girls, Asp flipped absently through his Potions textbook, keeping his eyes on the page to avoid looking directly at Malfoy, who remained eerily still at the front of the classroom.

The issue of Asp's new nickname did not arise again, for when all the students had settled into their seats and Professor Malfoy began to call roll in a clipped, aristocratic voice, he simply called them by their last names. Asp became "Mr. Potter", and Malfoy's own daughter was "Miss Malfoy". It was a strange exchange. Malfoy seemed completely unaffected by his own flesh and blood being in the room. She was as any other student to him.

Satisfied that all the students were present, Professor Malfoy glided over to his darkwood desk, upon which was perched a small pewter cauldron and many assorted ingredients and measuring devices. Resting his hands upon the desk, he leaned intently towards the class and began firing off questions on the first chapter of their Potions text. Asp was immensely relieved he'd had the foresight to skim through all his books on the day he and James had purchased their supplies from Diagon Alley.

The instant he'd finished questioning various students, he flicked his wand sharply at the chalkboard the covered the whole front of the classroom. Instructions for mixing a simple potion to induce drowsiness appeared, and Malfoy said simply, "Begin."

A flurry of motion filled the room as students hurried to fire up their cauldrons and sort through ingredients. Asp paused to read the instructions on the board carefully, but then movement to his right caught his eye.

He turned to see Layali humming merrily to herself as she shredded bay leaves and tossed them haphazardly into their shared cauldron. He bit his tongue against an objection. He supposed they could scrape by with torn leaves instead of leaves pulped in the mortar and pestle..

Layali took a pinch of orange powder from a little vial of the substance and made to toss it into the cauldron with the bayleaf.

Asp's eyes widened, and faster than he'd ever moved before, he reached across and snatched her hand away from over the cauldron. "Never, never, _never_," he said, a bit shriller than he'd intended, "put this in without a diffusing base to balance it out! Are you trying to explode the cauldron?!"

Layali blinked at him. "I was following the instructions," she protested indignantly.

He closed his eyes. Took a deep breath. Let it out. "Nowhere in the instructions does it even _mention_ dragonbane. Why do you even _have_ dragonbane?"

She huffed, rolling her eyes. "Well ex-_cuse_ me if dragon-whatsit happens to look like cinnamon."

Asp was trying to understand. He really was. He was trying to be patient. "And why were you putting cinnamon in the potion?"

She raised an eyebrow at him, as though it was painfully obvious. "To make it smell better. Have you ever noticed that the majority of potions end up smelling positively _vile_?"

"To make it smell better," Asp repeated flatly. After a long pause, he asked, "Isn't your father the Potions master?" He gestured vaguely towards Professor Malfoy at the front of the room.

"Yep. Why?"

Asp just stared incredulously at her for a moment. Finally, he said slowly, "Maybe you should leave adding ingredients to me. Do you like stirring? You can stir."

She frowned. "You're restricting me to _stirring_?" She seemed to consider that, then shrugged. "Ah, well. Less work for me."

With Asp supervising exactly what and how much of each ingredient was put into their potion, the pair managed to scrape together a passable potion.

When Professor Malfoy came by their cauldron to inspect their mixture, he sneered at it and said, almost to himself, "Of course a Potter wouldn't have the slightest aptitude for potion-work," then swept on past.

"At least it was well-stirred," Layali said to Asp chirpily, completely unphased by the slight.

When Professor Malfoy dismissed their class, the students hastened to leave. They were not feeling very optimistic about the rest of the year in Potions class.

As Asp gathered all of his things together and carefully returned them to his bag, he felt a tap on his shoulder. Turning, he saw Jamila standing behind him, her potions book clutched in one arm. Her hangers-on were waiting for her by the doorway. His cousin's lips were pursed into a thin line, her brow slightly furrowed. Abruptly she said, "Meet me in the library in an hour. Family conference."

Without waiting for a reply, she pivoted and marched out of the room, flanked by the other Gryffindor girls.

There was a soft snicker from his side. Layali slung her bag over one shoulder and said, lips twitching with inner mirth as she gave him a slant-eyed look, "Mommy looks angry. Think she'll ground you?"

Without deigning to reply to that, Asp followed her to the Slytherin Common Room. As they walked, she effortlessly filled his silence with a running monologue of frivolous chatter.

---

At the appointed time, Asp walked through a pair of heavy double doors into the immense double-story Hogwarts Library. He paused briefly in the doorway, daunted by the size of it and wondering how he was to find Jamila among the shelves and wayward piles of books.

He needn't have worried though, for a quick glance around located a group of round tables at which some students were doing homework. At one of the tables were seated Jamila, Rose, James, and Fred. They were whispering amongst themselves, and Rose was the only one who had a book in front of her. The others had come empty-handed; they weren't here for studying.

When Asp drew near, Fred was the first one to spot him. He grinned crookedly and said, loudly enough to earn a death-glare from the elderly witch who was manning the check-out counter, "Why, it's the snake hatchling!"

James gave Fred a shove, but an answering grin flashed habitually over his face.

Rose smiled warmly at him and said, "Hello, Asp." It seemed Jamila had already filled them in on the events of the day.

"His name is Albus," Jamila rebuked her sharply.

"I don't see why he can't be called Asp, if he prefers it," Rose said neutrally, earning an incredulous look from Jamila.

"Where are Victoire and Chloé?" Asp asked, trying to divert attention away from the issue of his new nickname.

James shrugged. "Chloé shrilled at me about having homework already, and that she didn't intend to get behind on it on the first night because of first year drama. As for Victoire – who knows? Probably off somewhere writing to Teddy, or doing extremely important seventh year socializing."

Asp sat down in a chair between Rose and Fred, looking around at them all apprehensively. "So. Er," he said, at a loss for words.

"I'll begin," Jamila said, flicking her hair over her shoulder. Turning her gaze on Asp, she said, "Albus, we're concerned about you. Hanging around Malfoys is… a less than positive start to your social life at Hogwarts."

George nodded and said, leaning towards him intently, "The Death Eaterette will slither into your brain, sink her fangs in, and poison you with her pureblood ideals!" Only the mischievous gleam in his eyes belied his menacing words and tone.

James frowned. "The Malfoy girl is probably not the best person to get involved with, little bro."

Thoughtfully tapping at her chin with one ink-stained finger, Rose offered her input. "She may not be the most beneficial companion, if she adheres to her father's reputation and principles. However, I do believe in the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps Asp should have his chance to speak, to tell us what this Layali is actually like."

Asp shot her a grateful look, but then felt the weight of everyone's gaze settle on him. Oh, right.. This was the part where he chimed in. "Er, well.. She doesn't seem all that bad to me. A little bit conceited, but it's nothing I'm not used to, living with James and all."

George chuckled at that.

"And she's awful at potion-work. Other than that, I haven't really gotten to know her well.. But she doesn't seem like the bad type. Not like Dad's stories about Professor Malfoy."

"But you've only known her for like, a day," Jamila protested.

"Exactly," Rose said. "I think we should suspend judgment on her until we know more about her. One day is hardly enough to condemn someone."

Fred shrugged. "I don't see why the baby Slytherins shouldn't be allowed to play together."

Though he looked as though he had some reservations on the decision, James nodded in agreement. "She may be the black sheep in the family – she could be decent. Couldn't hurt to give her a chance."

Jamila looked outraged at them. "She's a _Malfoy_, for Merlin's sake! Have you all forgotten that the scars my father, _your_ uncle, has to live with were caused by the actions of her father? If not for him, many people wouldn't have died! Including Albus Dumbledore." She turned to Asp. "_Your_ namesake."

They were all silent for a moment. Every one of their parents had spoken of Dumbledore to them, accrediting him as the brightest wizard to have ever lived. They all knew the tales of his exploits, and they all felt a pang of regret at the fact they'd never have a chance to know him. In some obscure way, they all felt a ghost of loss for the man who had died years before they were even born.

Finally, Rose broke the silence. "Her father. Not her."

"The apple doesn't fall far from the tree," Jamila said nastily.

There was another brief, tense silence before Fred said jovially, "Now that's not true at all. Look at ickle Asp, here. His dad was the most Gryffindor of Gryffindors to ever Gryff. Must have been a heck of a wind that blew this apple all the way into Slytherin house."

Jamila shot him an unamused look, then said curtly, "Fine. Buddy up to the little Death Eater. See if I care." With that, she turned and marched out of the library.

Turning to grin at the others, Fred said, "So. Who's up for chucking dung bombs in the Restricted Section?"

---

When Asp returned to the Slytherin Common room, he found Layali engaged in a game of exploding snap against another first year. She glanced up when he entered and shot him a grin. It was infectious, and Asp found himself smiling back.

"Want to play the winner? It'll be me," Layali said confidently, turning her gaze back to the cards in her hand.

Asp shook his head. "I promised Mum I'd write her, and then I should get a start on the Potions homework. But I'll watch."

He went up to his dorm, fetched some parchment, a quill, and ink to write home with, and returned to the common room. He set up at the coffee table next to where they were engrossed in their game on the floor.

He was halfway through his second piece of parchment when the other girl cried triumphantly, "Snap!"

Layali flew into an outraged tirade, accusing the girl of cheating and demanding a rematch. She was the queen of exploding snap, and she would not be usurped. The other girl retorted that she didn't need to cheat, because Layali's skills at exploding snap were explosively shameful.

Asp had to duck when Layali flung her cards away from her in a random direction that happened to be at his head. She and the other girl shot insults back and forth for another minute, then gathered the cards and went at another game.

Stifling laughter at these antics, Asp turned back to his letter. He reread the last thing he'd written. '_I'm not sure how I'm to fit in here. I'm worried the Sorting Hat made a mistake, because I can't find any similarities between me and the other Slytherins_.' He paused, glancing back over at the girls as they dealt the cards for the new game. Layali's grey eyes shone hard with determination. Asp set his quill to the parchment and closed his letter abruptly with one last line: '_But I think I'm going to be okay_.'


	3. Part 1 :: Chapter 3

_Author's Note: The last chapter of the first part! But do not fear, my darlings! There shall be much more of this fanfiction. This first part was sort of an introduction, setting the tone of the story and giving you a little backstory as well. Part two is where things are really going to start happening. Between part one and part two, there's going to be a time-jump from Asp and Layali's first year to their sixth year. So buckle up and hold on tight!_

_Disclaimer: I own nothing but Layali._

* * *

**Part One :: Chapter Three**

The first week of school at Hogwarts was exciting, exhilarating, and exhausting. It was a relief to everyone, even the professors, when the first weekend rolled around.

Saturday found Asp sleeping in late, but when he got up at ten am, he found that Layali hadn't yet emerged from the girls' dorms. He'd had breakfast and received, read, and replied to a letter from his parents by the time she finally made an appearance around noon. She was in a better mood by far than the previous mornings, when they'd had to awaken at seven am in order to get to class on time. Still, she had just woken up, and despite the fact that she'd groomed she still looked rumpled and dazed.

"Good morning," Asp bade her.

"Gmor," was her mumbled reply. It was an improvement. In the preceding days she had simply snarled wordlessly whenever someone greeted her before she'd had something to eat.

She paused by the plush green chair he sat in and inquired simply, "Food?"

"I imagine lunch will be set out in the Great Hall by now," Asp answered with a small smile as he shut the book he'd been leisurely reading. Gesturing to the book as he stood, he said, "I'll put this in my dorm and meet you there?"

Layali nodded, and he left to quickly deposit his book on his carefully made bed.

When he returned to the common room, he expected Layali to have gone on ahead, but instead she was waiting for him. They walked to the Great Hall together, remarking on how glad they were it was the weekend. Asp actually found himself doing most of the talking. First thing in the morning, he'd discovered, was the time when Layali was at her quietest. Once she got some food in her stomach, though, she would quickly recover her vigor and infinite energy.

Upon reaching the Great Hall, Asp spotted James and Fred engaged in a game of wizard's chess at the Gryffindor table. For every man they 'killed' of the opposition, they helped themselves to something from a Honeydukes bag that sat between them.

At a stroke of inspiration, Asp turned to Layali and said, "Hey, let's go eat over there with my brother."

Layali blinked at him for a moment, as though she couldn't comprehend what he'd just said through her morning fog. Then she said incredulously, "At the Gryffindor table?"

"Why not?" Asp asked, spirits sinking a little.

"I'm afraid I'll catch something. What if stupidity is contagious?" She paused, seemed to scrutinize him for a moment, then gave a lofty shrug and said, "Well, I've been meaning to check and see if they get better food than us anyway." And she led the way over to the Gryffindor table. Asp was swept with a wave of relief.

James swore as Fred's remaining bishop smote one of his knights, then glanced up at their approach. His raised eyebrow was the only indication he gave that this wasn't a normal thing. "Morning, little bro," he said, studying the chess board as Fred popped a Fizzing Whizbee into his mouth with a triumphant smirk.

"Hey James, Fred," Asp greeted them as he sat down beside his brother, grabbing a plate and helping himself to some of the food set out. Layali took the seat next to him.

Asp felt the weight of eyes on him and glanced down the table. Most of the Gryffindors there were staring at him and Layali, all of them with bewilderment and some even with animosity. Asp shifted nervously in his seat. So. It appeared that there were still tensions between Slytherin and Gryffindor. His father had fervently assured him that it would be nothing like the out-and-out hatred that festered during his days at Hogwarts, that he was sure inter-house relations were better now, but.. Asp definitely felt a strain there.

Layali, meanwhile, seemed not to notice the stares at all. She was single-mindedly heaping food onto her plate and attacking it with the ravenous fervor of a starving woman.

"How are you finding life in the crypts, Aspy-waspy?" Fred asked, lining up and counting all the men he'd captured from James' side of the chess board with a gloating air.

Asp shrugged and said, "It's.. pretty good."

"Malfoy load you down with homework yet?" James asked wryly. A second later, he seemed to realize that it was, in fact, Professor Malfoy's own daughter sitting at the table, and winced.

He needn't have been concerned though, for she was intent on her bacon.

"Um. A bit. Nothing to bad yet, I think," Asp said neutrally.

That was another odd thing. All week, Professor Malfoy hadn't once recognized his daughter. Well, he certainly knew who she was, but he'd never once mentioned, alluded to, or even indicated at all that they were in any way related. If he hadn't seen them at King's Cross together himself, Asp would have begun to wonder if perhaps there were two wizarding families with the surname 'Malfoy'.

Layali had been willing enough to keep the silence between her and her father, as well. There was something different in her regard for him, though, than his for her. There was a stagnancy, of sorts. A still expectancy, as though she was waiting for something. It put Asp in mind of a cat that holds a vigil all day outside of a mouse hole, waiting patiently for the rodent to betray itself.

Try as he might, Asp couldn't puzzle out what it could mean. Had Jamila noticed it? She was in their Potions class, and though she continued to sit by him every day, she hardly spoke a word to him any more. Maybe he should try to talk to her, find out if this was all just in his head, some subconscious attempt to separate Layali from her father's looming legacy.

"Lucky twerps," Fred commented. "We already have five lengths of parchment to write over the weekend. I tell you, I don't have the galleons for that class. It's going to clean out my pockets soon, paying people to do my assignments, if the workload doesn't ease up."

Layali's lips twitched into a grin. She was starting to come alive again, and had slowed her eating pace to a more leisurely rate. "You could always bully some first year Ravenclaw into doing it," she said between bites of scrambled egg. "Tell them it's for a contest or something scholarly."

Fred looked at her blankly for a moment, and then he beamed at her. "I like you," he said in a matter-of-fact way. To Asp he said simply, "I approve."

Layali raised her fork in a modest salute to him.

"Got any plans for the weekend?" James asked his brother.

Asp shook his head. "I hadn't thought to plan anything. I wanted to leave some time open for homework, just in case."

James looked at him as though he were the saddest thing on the face of the earth.

"Well, what about you?" Asp asked defensively.

"Quiddich tryouts!" Fred exclaimed excitedly. "I'm going for Beater."

James nodded. "And even though I'm the Seeker-" he paused to draw attention to that fact, and then continued, "I have to be there to help with tryouts. Throwing quaffels and stuff." He made it sound like a lowly thing for an all-important Seeker to do.

"Never fear, Asp! We shall find something grand and adventurous to do," Layali reassured him.

Somehow, he didn't quite feel reassured.

---

They got a week's worth of detentions, but somehow it was worth it to see the look on Madame Hooch's face as she tried to puzzle out where on earth such a horrible stench was coming from. It had taken her ages to discover the dung bombs planted in the center of the bristles of every broom owned by the school. The whole undertaking of locating and removing the dung bombs had taken up nearly half of their Monday flying lesson.

Asp decided that it was a sign of impending madness that he found the prank worth the detentions.

Layali was already planning something else. Apparently she was painstakingly acquiring goldfish. Asp didn't want to know.

---

Monday was when it all went down.

Everything was perfectly fine – until Potions class.

The students entered the room in clusters, having learned by now that it wasn't a good idea to draw the professor's attention to themselves as an individual. They talked in hushed voices, a low murmur, as they found their way to their seats.

"Remain standing," Malfoy's cultured voice commanded from the front of the room.

Exchanging confused glances with one another, the students obeyed.

Malfoy flicked his wand at the chalkboard and the chalk sprung to life, rapidly drawing out a chart that illustrated the Potions room. "You will have assigned seats from now on. Find your new seats."

Asp squinted at the chart. His eyesight was much better than his father's, so he didn't need to wear glasses, but the students' last names were scrawled on the chart in a small, cramped hand. He saw that he still had his own seat, and that Jamila remained at his left. However, the name on the seat to his right was unfamiliar. Quickly scanning the chart, he located Layali's name. She was to be clear across the room.

Asp bit back a protest. Ah, well. They had other classes together, he supposed.

He turned to exchange a disappointed glance with Layali, but found that she wasn't looking at him. She sat in the seat to his right, arranging her potions supplies at ninety-degree angles on the tabletop.

"Er.. Layali?" Had she not noticed the chart?

She looked up and smiled beatifically at him. "Yes?"

"Did you hear the professor?"

"I'm not deaf. Of course I heard him."

"Then.. Did you see the chart?"

"My eyesight is perfectly fine."

"So.. You know that's not your seat any more, right?"

She shrugged, going back to her supply-arranging.

"Layali?"

"I see no reason to move. I'm perfectly comfortable here."

"But.. The professor said-"

"_The professor_ will just have to get used to it."

"Layali.."

She looked up at him, her grey eyes stone-cold and hard. That look stunned him to silence. "Asp. Let me do this."

"Do _what_?" He burst out in exasperation.

She merely shook her head, mute.

Asp sighed, resigning himself to the impossibility that was Layali. "Fine. Whatever it is you're doing, I won't stop you. Just.. I just hope you at least know what it is you're doing."

The class had slowly rearranged themselves, moving their things to other locations around the room. With them all finally settled, one Gryffindor boy remained standing. He hovered uneasily by Layali's chair, his eyes flicking unsurely from the chart to where she sat.

Layali turned to face him and said sweetly, "May I help you?"

"I think that's my seat," the boy said slowly.

"Don't."

"Don't what?" The Gryffindor looked utterly puzzled.

"Think. It's a nasty habit for Gryffindors," Layali replied, her expression completely innocent.

From Asp's other side, Jamila shot her a glare.

"Miss Malfoy, is there a problem here?" Professor Malfoy had glided down the aisle between the tables silently, and now stood towering over the pair.

Asp flinched away before he could suppress the impulse.

"No professor," Layali replied amiably.

Malfoy's eyes narrowed to slits. "Miss Malfoy, that is not your seat any more. Your assigned seat is over there." He pointed across the room.

"But I like it right here."

"That is not for you to decide, Miss Malfoy."

"And why not?"

"Because I am the professor here, and you are a first-year student. A first-year student of my House, no less."

"Listen, Father-"

"I am Professor Malfoy to you, and you are but another student to me, while school is in session," Malfoy hissed the rebuke at her.

The class was utterly silent, everyone seeming to hold a collective breath as identical grey eyes locked and wills clashed.

"Perhaps. But I see no grounds for you to move my seat," Layali replied smoothly, coolly. All casual affectations were gone from her tone now, and her face had smoothed out into an expressionless mask.

"I believe you shall be more productive and more open to learning away from negative influences." The Professor flicked his gaze meaningfully at Asp.

He sunk down in his seat slightly. He'd hoped that if he remained absolutely still, they may not see him, and he might be left out of it.

Layali laughed, a brittle sound akin to breaking glass. "Asp? He's hardly a negative influence on my education. He's a stickler for the rules and a whiz at potion-work. You couldn't ask for a better influence. If anybody could use an in-class tutor, it would be me. _You_ know I've never had an aptitude for potions."

"Five points from Slytherin for talking back to a professor," Malfoy snapped.

"Just because you have some childish grudge against the Potters doesn't mean that I have to drag myself down to your petty level."

"Ten points from Slytherin for insolence."

"I will be friends with whoever I wish to. So if you're my professor here instead of my father – _then stop trying to turn me into you_." Anger flashed in her eyes, lightning in a grey storm, and venom laced her tone.

"Twenty points from Slytherin and you will remove yourself from my classroom!" Malfoy roared at her.

Layali stood up so quickly that she nearly knocked her chair over. "It's a _dungeon_, you moron!"

She stormed out, letting the heavy wooden door slam behind her.

---

And so Layali had made it clear to everyone that she had no intention of living up to her father's 'legacy'.

Asp gathered up the belongings Layali had left in the Potions room when she left and brought it back to the Slytherin dorms. As he passed through the Common Room, he heard many voices say Layali's name as they all conferred over what had happened. They didn't bother to lower their voices – they were Slytherins.

Asp asked another first-year Slytherin girl if she would take Layali's things to her for him. Layali had warned him about the trick stair to the girls' dorms that would chuck any male who tried to climb them clear across the room.

A few minutes later, Layali came down the stairs and found him reading by the fire. She plopped down into the seat across from him and said, her eyes gleaming, "I think the Headmistress is going to side with me. She said I had some very good points."

"You went to the Headmistress about this?" Asp asked, shutting his book but holding his place with his forefinger.

"Of course I did! This incident is essential for my successful takeover of Hogwarts."

"Takeover..?"

Layali's grin turned impish. "Oh, Asp. We're in for an interesting few years here."

**Part One End**


	4. Part 2 :: Chapter 1

_Author's Note: The first chapter of the second part! Layali and Asp are now in their sixth year, and our story is really going to get started now.. Let me know what you think!_

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**Part Two :: Chapter One**

The door to Asp's dorm slammed open, doorknob hitting the wall in the same spot it had since the beginning of last year. A dent was steadily grinding deeper into the stone wall. He didn't even have to open his eyes to know who it was.

"Get up!" Layali yelled, whipping the pillow out from under his head and hitting him with it. "Getupgetupgetupgetup!"

Asp groaned, pulling his blanket up over his head and curling into a fetal position.

Abandoning the pillow, Layali clambered onto his bed and began jumping up and down dangerously close to his head. "It's Saturday, I've had my coffee, and people have already started leaving for Hogsmeade!"

Asp sighed to himself. When he'd been appointed as prefect at the start of fifth year, he'd been ecstatic to discover that Slytherin prefects got their own rooms. The reasoning was that they had duty patrolling the halls at night, after curfew. The theory was that they'd disturb the rest of their dormmates coming in late, and so were appointed separate rooms.

He'd also noticed that none of the other houses implemented this system. He might have asked why this was if he hadn't been worried about jeopardizing the peace and solitude he'd been yearning for.

He'd forgotten that with Layali in his life, peace and solitude was impossible.

Still jumping up and down, Layali chirpily informed him, "You'd better hope you're wearing trunks, because if you don't get up in sixty seconds, I'm ripping the blanket off."

Asp lowered the blanket just enough to glare at her over the edge. He was clothed from the waist down. He'd risk her wrath for a few more precious moments in bed. "Why do you insist on taking this from me? I need my sleep. If I'm not well-rested and alert, your potions grade is doomed."

"But it's Hogsmeade weekend!" She exclaimed incredulously. "You have plenty of time to sleep during the week. The weekend is awake time! Especially when it's a Hogsmeade weekend. Time's up!"

She jumped from the bed to the floor, and then suddenly the cover was whipped off of him, cold air shocking his sleep-warmed skin. Asp groaned and curled up tighter, willing the blanket to reappear. But Layali was ruthless.

"Up, or I'll hex you!"

He peered at her from under his arm. "You wouldn't."

Her eyes were steely.

With another aggrieved sigh, he slowly uncurled. Grumbling under his breath, he winced when his feet touched the cold stone floor. He wished he had a carpet. The furnishings within his room were lavish, to be sure, but somehow it seemed the floors had been overlooked when the dorm was decorated.

As he padded over to the wardrobe against one wall, Layali plopped down on his bed, stretching out on her back and folding her arms behind her head. "This is gonna be great. First stop, the Three Broomsticks. After that – mm, Honeydukes, I think. Definitely Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes next."

Asp turned and just looked at her until she stopped chattering and said, "What?"

"I'm going to get changed."

"So?"

"So you mind waiting outside?"

Layali wrinkled her nose at him. "I'm not looking."

He raised an eyebrow pointedly, and she huffed in response.

"Well, right _now_ I am because you're talking to me and happen to be clothed. Merlin's balls, I change in front of the other girls in my dorm all the time. So do they. None of us care."

"That's different. You're all girls."

She suddenly got a horrified look on her face and exclaimed, "And you're not?! My gods, how could you keep this from me for five years?" She dropped the act and rolled her eyes. "Dude, you're my best mate. So it's not different at all to me."

He still didn't move, so with an exasperated sigh she sat up and turned so that she was facing the opposite wall.

Asp quickly switched out his boxers, then pulled a pair of jeans on and slipped a plain black leather belt through the loops. Next came an immaculately pressed white button-up shirt. It had a collar and cuffs, but was cut so that it was casual enough for everyday wear.

It was muggle-wear, but that was nothing unusual at Hogwarts these days. The required uniforms were a thing of the past. That was all thanks to Layali. She seemed to leave change in her wake wherever she walked. She'd certainly changed him – for better or worse, though, was something he didn't really want to clarify.

In her fourth year at Hogwarts, Layali had discovered a nigh unbreakable sticking spell in a book from the Restricted Section. Coincidentally, it was this incident that also taught Asp not to leave his reading material out where a certain raven-haired imp might find it and get ideas.

Layali had attempted to set the sticking spell on the step outside of the Headmistress's office, to lie in wait for some unsuspecting student or professor, and had somehow instead stuck her own feet to the floor. By the time he found her, a couple of professors had already come across her. She boldly declared that she'd fixed herself there on a hunger strike against the 'conformity and prejudice of the Hogwarts school uniforms'. She had insisted that the wizarding-style robes were a scandalous mockery of the muggle-born students among them, and that the school officials sought to segregate the muggle-borns from the students born of wizarding families.

Word had soon spread throughout the school, and students from all houses came by to see if it was true. Rapidly Layali began to gain a following, and the stairway up to the Headmistress's office filled with students. Some bore posters. One person went so far as to wear nothing _but_ a poster declaring: "Freedom to clothe or no clothes at all!"

Within the week, a new edict had been passed: Students were only required to wear their uniforms at formal occasions. The rest of the time, they could choose their clothing as they wished, so long as it was nothing too revealing. That guideline was promptly ignored when Jamila had discovered tank tops and skirts.

Asp had worked double-time scouring the Restricted Section for something to break the sticking spell. He'd tried to sneak food to Layali at her vigil, but she'd seemed to have caught the fever of rebellion she'd started and had refused it. It was sheer luck alone that Asp had discovered the counter-spell the night before the school-uniform policy was repealed.

Layali hadn't even needed to tell him to hold his silence. To this day, he was the only one who knew how her 'protest' had originally started.

Asp was fastening the top button of his shirt when he glanced up and saw Layali looking at him, her head tilted slightly to the side and that familiar gleam in her eyes that meant she was plotting something. "Hey!"

"Chill out. I waited until you had your jeans on."

Giving up, he sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled on a pair of socks and shoes.

Layali hopped off of the bed and walked over to him as he tied his shoes. "C'mon. Rose and Fred are waiting."

Ever since James had graduated last year – barely – Fred had been hanging around them more and more often. He and Layali had always gotten on very well, but with his best friend gone, the friendship Fred extended towards them had gone from casual to essential.

Asp straightened up, tugged his cuffs straight, and glanced up to find Layali casting a critical eye over his outfit. Holding his arms out at his sides, he asked dryly, "Do I meet with your approval?"

His best friend gave a martyred sigh and said, "It'll have to do. For now."

And with that ominous threat hanging in the air, they left to meet Rose and Fred in the Great Hall.

---

"Uncle Geo-orge!" Layali sang as she led the way skipping into the Hogsmeade branch of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes.

Asp was afraid. She'd had coffee at the Three Broomsticks and had devoured half the bag of Sugared Swizzle Sticks just walking from Honeydukes to Uncle George's shop. She was now working on about her twentieth Swizzle. Who knew what insanity she would get into when the sugar fully hit.

Uncle George appeared from the stock room, a grin on his face. He slung an arm companionably over Fred's shoulders and exclaimed, "Right on time! I just brought in a whole load of new products, and you lot are going to be the first to get your hands on them!"

Turning to Layali, he continued his cheery tirade. "And you, girl! I keep telling you not to call me 'Uncle George'. It's too relative, and dashes my hopes of marrying Fred here off to you."

Layali grinned back at him and said, "Bloody hell, no! Fred's like a cousin to me."

"Precisely my worry! And calling me 'Uncle George' only solidifies that notion in your head," he said with a woeful shake of his head.

It was their old banter. Not half an hour after first becoming acquainted, during the summer after Asp's first year at Hogwarts, George had declared his intentions of getting his son and Layali together.

That had certainly been an interesting summer. It had started out utterly boring. His siblings had all been involved with their own activities – improvised Quiddich games, which he'd never been interested in, and owling friends to meet up at Diagon Alley to go shopping, among other droll things. Asp found himself the odd one out. He asked his father if he could invite Layali to stay with them for a couple of weeks. His queries had been evaded several times before he finally got a straight answer – and that answer had been that it "probably isn't a good idea".

Asp had written to Layali about his failed attempt. The owl he received back from her held one single, concise line: "Are you a Slytherin or not?"

And so Asp had deliberately furthered the gap between himself and his siblings and cousins. He had spent the majority of his time in his room, and when he had come out, he barely spoke to anyone. He ate less and made sure his parents saw him gazing wistfully out of the window on several occasions.

It wasn't long before his mother had approached him and said anxiously that she really saw no problem if he wanted to invite a friend to stay for a little while. Three days later, Layali swept into the Potter household as though she'd been living there for years. Some, like George, were utterly charmed by her. She had, in all actuality, become fairly close with Rose. Others in the family had grown to tolerate her by the end of the visit. And still others, such as Jamila and her sisters, held fast to their animosity towards her.

"George, where in Merlin's name do you expect us to fit another entire display?" A very harried Mrs. Weasley – the former Ms. Johnson – shrilled as she stormed over to her husband.

"Angelina, the kids are here," George said merrily.

Angelina spared a glance at the group, spotting them for the first time, and said, "Oh, hello. Is it Hogsmeade weekend already? Well, I hope you're all doing well. How are your marks, Fred?"

"Fine, Mum," Fred said mildly, seemingly suddenly intrigued by some product or other on the other side of the room, which he slipped away to take a closer look at before his mother could ask more specific questions about the state of his grades.

Whirling upon her husband again, Angelina said tersely, "George. Either you over-ordered, or the displays that were supposed to go to the Diagon Alley branch came here instead."

"Relax, Angie. I'll look into it." He patted her shoulder reassuringly.

Angelina pursed her lips but said no more, moving out from under his hand to see to a customer.

Asp pretended not to notice. It was no secret that George and Angelina's marriage was rocky at best, but that didn't mean he had the right to stick his nose in their business.

George beckoned his son over and said once he had rejoined the group, "So, you all want to see what new terrifically tantalizing tricks and superbly stupendous surprises we've got?"

Eagerly the teens followed him into the storage room. There were some half unpacked crates back there, and George displayed and explained each of his wares to his attentive audience with the zeal of a true entertainer. When he was through, each of them left with at least one product and, as always, he insisted that they not pay him.

As they were leaving the shop, Fred turned to his dad and said, "Hey, George, I'll owl you in a couple days to let you know how those Flaming Fountain Pens turn out, alright?"

"Excellent," George said – or tried to say, at least. Angelina suddenly appeared over his shoulder and interrupted him, a strained edge to her voice, "Fred, we have _talked_ about this. It's only proper that you call your father 'Dad'."

Fred winced at having been caught and said demurely, "Yes, Mum. Sorry, I forgot."

They all exchanged some final farewells, and then their group departed. The moment the door to Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes closed behind them, they all heard Angelina's angry outburst at George. Though slightly muffled, the words were clear enough. "He's not your brother, George, he's your son! You can't replace Fred with him. He needs a father, not a friend!"

As if at a silent consensus, the group picked up their speed, walking hurriedly and silently away from the argument.

A moment later, Layali exclaimed loudly, "Hey, I've got an idea for how we can break the tension! Let's go shopping for some proper clothes for Asp."

"Proper clothes?" Asp echoed incredulously, looking down at what he was wearing. He thought it looked alright.

"His clothes seem fine to me," Rose said, looking puzzled. Asp shot her a thankful look.

Layali sighed and said, "Oh, sure, they're 'fine', but are they _excellent_? I think not. He always dresses in such drab, formal things. He needs some color and pizzazz!"

"I'm quite happy being pizzazz-less," Asp meekly interjected. It was no use, though, and he knew it. Layali had her mind set on this, and there would be no deterring her now.

Layali shook her head, hooking her arm companionably through his. "Maybe so, but the sight of your utter contempt for maintaining a good appearance has slowly been corroding my retinas over the years. If you don't correct this soon, I shall either be forced to kill you or go blind. Don't make me choose, Asp. I really value my sight."

"Can we make him try on dresses?" Fred asked with a grin.

Her expression one of utter seriousness, Layali said, "We'll see, Fred. We'll see."

Asp had a feeling that things were about to go horribly wrong. So it was a pretty typical day in his life.


End file.
